Page 64 of Angel's Fall

“Even if he was late in arriving.”

Christine turned and gasped at the sight. Erik stood among the graves, a funeral figure in black with his deathly face covered in his white mask. Nonetheless, he was there, standing in the daylight. Months ago, a ghost had appeared to her out of the darkness, towering and terrible. Now, Erik stood before her in the rain, not in the sunlight, but in the day. Her ghost arising to breathe in this place of the dead. Another miracle.

Christine flew to him, and Erik caught her in his arms, tight and tender and real. “You found me,” she whimpered into his sodden cloak as he cradled the back of her head.

“Always,” he whispered in reply as she looked up into his eyes. They were a different color in the daylight, with no fires to reflect or shadows to defy. They were muted and so human. His mask was pale in the light too. There was rain dripping from his hat and in his hair, and it was all wondrous, because he had left the darkness for her, just for a moment.

Christine kissed him and held him close when he flinched in shock. It was wrong, perhaps, to kiss him here, on hallowed ground with the light of day upon them, but it was the only thing that felt right. His lips tasted of the rain, and he was warm and alive, right there. She pulled away and looked up at him in awe and love.

“I’m sorry,” Erik said. “I’m sorry, for being mortal and a fool. I’m sorry I can’t stop time and change the world. For all I didn’t say, and—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Christine protested, even if it wasn’t true. “You came. That’s all I wanted.” She kissed him again, still unsure if it was real.

“I wish I could give you more,” Erik sighed in return, nothing but regret in his eyes.

“All I want is this. You here with me,” Christine breathed. “All I want is to keep you, as long as I can.”

“I will try to stay.” Erik’s fingers threaded with hers, where she still wore the ring. “I promise.”

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Shaya’s footsteps wereslow and defeated as he trekked through the Faubourg. He had been so certain a few days ago that by now Erik would be in chains, but now the key to his undoing had slipped through their fingers and they were all doomed. His only hope now rested with the young aristocrat from whom Erik had taken everything. He found the Chagny manor far less busy than before. The butler who answered the door looked harried and wan, but he escorted Shaya to the parlor, where he found Raoul de Chagny staring grimly at the fire.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Raoul said before Shaya could speak. “You were right. Adèle confirmed it all.”

Shaya shook his head, thinking of the horrors Erik must have inflicted on the poor woman when he discovered she had shared his secrets. “You confronted Christine with this information?” Now it made sense why she had fled.

“Yes, and she...” Shaya watched as the young man waged a small battle with himself. “She made it clear that Erik has manipulated her into... giving her innocence.”

“Is that what she told you?”

“She told me how he lied to her. How he abused her and seduced her,” Raoul snapped. “He’s used his music and all his masks to twist her mind. She doesn’t even see reality anymore.”

“So, she told you she cares for him,” Shaya countered, and Raoul sent him a vicious frown.

“I trust what I see – what I know in my heart – not the lieshehas made her tell. I see an innocent, naïve soul who was moved by pity and led into... corruption.” Raoul looked sick. “Christine thinks there’s no hope for herself. She thinks that now she’s fallen no one will have her, but I will.”

Shaya raised an eyebrow. He did admire the young man’s optimism. “You want her? Knowing he’s had her—”

“Hetookher,” Raoul contradicted. “It’s not the same.”

Shaya nodded sullenly, remembering the last time he had seen his brother alive and all the lunacy Ramin had spoken then. “You’re right. No one would willingly lie with that thing, even if they protest otherwise.”

“Exactly. She’s been driven to madness by him, but I’m going to save her – her life and her soul. When she is my wife, she will thank me.”

“Wife?” Shaya tried not to sound too incredulous.

“I’m going to marry her, and when I do, she’ll be pure again.” Raoul seemed like he was repeating something he had told himself before. “She’ll confess her sins and be absolved, with the right penance.”

“Of course,” Shaya muttered. “But to save her, you need to find her.”

“That is the hard part,” Raoul sighed. “It’s impossible to get her out of that place with him watching. We’ve been wracking our brains and—”

“Monsieur, she’s already fled,” Shaya confessed at last.

Raoul turned to him. “What?”

“I saw her leave the Opera last night and I followed. First to her flat, then to the Saint-Lazare train station.” The weight of failure settled on his shoulders again. “That is what I came to tell you. She’s left the city and who knows if she will return.”

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